poor beast! Tell Dennis to go and put
her out of her misery." He shut his eyes and remained silent until the
doctor arrived, galloping up to the door on Hilliard's horse, which he
had lent to save time, and tearing up the staircase to the sick-room
with the unprofessional speed of an old and devoted friend.

The examination was soon over, and fortunately the patient asked no
questions; he was tired and inclined for sleep, unperturbed on his own
account, but greatly distressed for the noble animal for whose agony he
held himself responsible. He was soothed by the assurance that
everything possible should be done to cure, or, if that were impossible,
to end its sufferings, and was then left to rest, while the doctor
returned to the morning-room, to face the sisters with what courage he
might. Bridgie lay back in a deep, old-fashioned chair, a slight,
almost childlike figure, her hands clasped in her lap, her shoulders
bowed as by too heavy a burden--the burden of all those five
motherless,--it might soon be fatherless?--children. Esmeralda,
straight and defiant by the fireplace, her stormy eyes challenging his
face.

"I--I--there is very little to say!" The doctor passed his hands
helplessly through his grey locks and wished himself at the other end of
the county. "I didn't want to fatigue him to-day, but to-morrow we can
have a better examination. Perhaps Trevor would come over in
consultation. He seems quite easy--quite easy and comfortable. I think
he will sleep. You must keep up your hearts, and not let him think you
are anxious. A great thing to keep up the spirits!"

"Why do you talk like that? Why do you try to deceive us? My father
will never get better. You know perfectly well that it is hopeless!"
Esmeralda's voice sounded clear and cold as falling water; her lips did
not tremble, she looked the doctor full in the face with hard, defiant
eyes. "I have seen other accidents before this, and know what it means.
It is useless to pretend. He has no pain because his spine is too much
injured. If he suffered, there might be some hope; as it is, there is
none. He will lie there days, weeks, months, whichever it may be, but
he will never move out of that room. He is dead already, my father, the
father I love, and it will be cruel and wicked of you if you try to keep
him alive!"

"Joan, Joan! Oh, darling, don't! Think what you are saying!"

Tender-hearted Bridgie burst into tears, but Esmeralda